Trinity, Bethel McGrew (December 2025)

Trinity

In memory of Richard Feynman

“The baby is expected on…” what date?
Let’s see, it was the 16th of July.
I flew right back as soon as it came through.
I got there just in time to miss the bus,
But that was fine. I knew where we would meet.
Our radio died (because of course it would),
And so we sat and played a guessing game
Out in that desert silence. Wait, wait, wait…
Until, through static, suddenly, the word:
It’s time. Just seconds left to go. Stand by.

Dark glasses? Geez, it’s twenty miles away.
I’ll never see the goddamned thing, unless
I’m sitting in a truck, windshield between
Me and the ultraviolet light I know
Could really blind me. But I have to see
The flash. Bright light can never hurt your eyes.
And then, oh Jesus, there it is! So bright,
I gotta duck. I see this purple splotch,
An after-image. That’s not it. Look up,
See white change into yellow into flame.
And then the ball of fire starts to rise,
Billow, get black around the edges. Now
You see it isn’t fire, it’s smoke. The fire’s
Inside, the flash, the burning white, the heat.
I’m telling you, I saw it all, just me
And my two human eyes. No one but me.
Then came the BANG, and then the thunder rolled,
And it was like we’d woken from a dream.
 
That night, we all began to celebrate.
I drank and whooped and beat my drums of war.
But then I saw Bob Wilson sitting there,
The guy who put me on this whole damn thing.
I asked why he was moping. And he said,
“We made an awful thing, Dick. You and me.”
“Don’t look at me,” I said. “You started it!”
But that was it, you see. ‘Cuz once you start
To do an awful thing for all the best
Of reasons, you stop thinking. You just stop.
Except for Bob. I guess he never stopped.
Our job was over. Everyone went home.

I got a nice position at Cornell.
And still I couldn’t shake the strangest thought.
Just looking out the window at New York,
I’d think about the radius of death.
How far was it from here to 34th?
Those buildings would be gone, and those, and those.
Those bridges they were building, smashed to bits.
“Useless,” I thought. “Why don’t they all just stop?”
But it’s been forty years now, so I guess
I figured wrong. I’m glad they never stopped.